Questions & Answers
by Andra Marie Mueller
Summary: On the anniversay of Laura's death, Caine gives Peter some insight into his mother's life.


"**QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS"**

**By**

**Andra Marie Mueller**

**DISCLAIMER**: "Kung Fu: The Legend Continues" is the legal property of Warner Bros. TV and Michael Sloane.

Detective Peter Caine stormed into his apartment and slammed the door. Tossing his keys on the nearby table, he took the stairs two at a time, pulled a beer out of the refrigerator and took a long swallow, then let out a deep sigh.

"Long day?" a soft voice inquired.

Peter whirled at the unexpected intrusion and found his father sitting on his couch. "Pop...how did you...never mind," he managed.

Kwai Chang Caine gave his son a small smile. "Something is bothering you."

Caine's observation was a statement, not a question, and Peter smiled in spite of his mood.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," the detective assured him. "Just another frustrating day in my life as a cop."

"Would you like to talk about it?" Caine offered.

"I'd rather have you tell me what you're doing here," Peter responded, and took another sip of his beer as he crossed over to join hi father in the living room.

Caine stood up and withdrew an envelope from his pocket. "I came here to give you this," he said, and handed it to Peter. It was yellowed with age, and the front bore Peter's name in an unfamiliar script.

"What's this?" Peter prompted.

"It is from your mother," Caine answered evenly.

Peter's eyes widened in surprise, his father's tone making it evident that the came not from Peter's foster mother Annie Blaisdell, but from his birth mother, Laura Katherine Caine. Staring at the envelope, Peter felt a familiar pain of longing, a never ending wish that he could have known the woman who gave him life.

"Where did you get it?" he asked softly.

"I have had it for many years," Caine told him. "Laura wrote it shortly before she died, and she gave it to me with the understanding that I would give it you when you were old enough to understand it."

"Aside from the locket, this is all I have of her," Peter said to himself.

Caine smiled and placed a gentle hand against his son's face. "You are her, Peter," he corrected softly. "Read the letter."

He let his fingers caress Peter's face briefly, then he left the apartment as Peter settled on his couch and opened the letter.

My Darling Peter –

Hello, my son. If you are reading this, then it means that I am gone.

My only regrets are losing your father and being deprived of watching you

grow into the fine man I know you will become.

My purpose is writing you this letter is very simple. As you grow older,

there will be questions about your father and I, and yourself, that

Kwai Chang cannot answer. It isn't because he doesn't know the answers,

but rather they bring him too much pain. Although he tried not to show it,

I know my illness has taken a tremendous toll on him, and I curse Fate

for causing him such agony. My only consolation is knowing he has you.

At any rate, I hope this letter will give you some insight as to who I was,

who you and your father are, and how Peter Matthew Caine came to be.

The first time I met Kwai Chang Caine, I was eighteen years old, fresh out

of high school and ready to take on the world. I was an only child, and

my parents had spoiled me my entire life. My father was a successful

corporate attorney who worked for a prominent law firm in New York City.

My mother was a medical doctor, specifically a cardiac surgeon. As my

graduation gift, my parents sent me to San Francisco for three weeks.

My first weekend there, a group of friends and I decided to go hiking in the mountains north of the city, and we came across a building unlike any

I had ever seen. It was Oriental in appearance, and had a sense of peace

about it that was almost tangible. Making our way inside, we discovered a

group of bald headed monks practicing some type of martial arts. As we

watched, a man came up behind us and placed a hand on my shoulder. I jumped

in fright, and turned to face him. It was your father, and I took one look

at him and knew this was the man I wanted to spend my life with. There

was just something about him that called to me, and I felt an instant

connection with him. Kwai Chang must have felt the same way because

we stared at one another in silence for a full minute. Eventually I found

my voice and introduced myself, as did he, and shortly thereafter my

friends and I left. But I returned to the temple every day for the next

two weeks, and by the time my vacation was over I knew I was in love with him.

I was fairly certain that Kwai Chang felt the same way, but we did not want

to rush into a relationship. He was a Buddhist monk and I was Catholic; a union

would mean changes for both of us.

I promised Kwai Chang I would return the following summer, but due to

mitigating circumstances I was unable to come back to him until after I had

graduated from college. By then it had been four years since I had seen him,

yet in my heart my love for him had survived the test of time. Four years

to the day we met, I walked back into the temple and into your father's

life. I never left again. Despite my parents' disapproval and skepticism

from outsiders, we were married two months later. We moved into a

small house on the outskirts of Braniff, a small country town that

bordered the temple grounds. One year later, we were blessed with you,

and the look on Kwai Chang's face as he held you for the first time

was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. It was full of such love

and adoration it brought tears to my eyes. Unfortunately, however,

our happiness was short lived. When you were eighteen months old I began

having migraine headaches, and when your father's skills failed to cure me,

a visit to the town doctor led to the revelation that I had brain cancer.

I was given a maximum of six months to live. Your father and I were

devastated; all of our plans and hopes for our future were shattered, but

we resolved to be strong for your sake. Now the months are a matter of

hours, and this letter will be my final gift to you.

In spite of everything, I am at peace knowing that although I will not be able

to share your life, I leave you with a father who loves you with a passion

I've never seen. From the day you were born the two of you shared a bond

that went beyond that of father and son. Perhaps it is because you are to be

our only child, a living legacy to a love that will never die. Many times I've asked myself how two such totally different people as your father and I found one another. I don't know. Perhaps your existence is answer enough, Peter; for

along with his eyes, you have inherited Kwai Chang's soul.

Be happy, my son. I love you.

Your Loving Mother,

Laura Katherine Caine

Peter finished the letter and carefully reinserted it into the envelope, then wiped away the tears streaming down his face. Tucking the envelope into his jacket pocket, Peter headed out of his apartment and made his way across town to his father's kwoon. Finding the darkened studio deserted, he headed upstairs to the apartment.

Caine stood on his balcony, playing his flute and staring out at the city. As if sensing Peter's presence, the priest stopped playing and turned to face him.

"I trust the letter has answered some of your questions regarding your mother."

"For the most part," Peter allowed. "It also helped me understand why you never told me about her. Obviously time does not heal all wounds."

"No, but each time you smile I see your mother, and the pain lessens," Caine replied. "You are her image."

"Except for the eyes," Peter returned.

"Except for the yes," Caine echoed.

"What did she look like?" Peter asked. The one picture he had wasn't enough. It was...two dimensional...not real.

"Laura was very beautiful. She had long hair the color of cinnamon, with fair skin and light blue eyes. Her real beauty, however, came from within."

"She said in the letter that the two of you fell in love at 'first sight'," Peter remarked. "Is that true?"

Caine smiled at the memory. "Yes. As soon as I looked into her eyes, I knew what she would become to me."

"Yet two weeks later you let her walk out of your life."

"At the time, I felt she was too young to make a commitment to me, and I wanted to give her time to be sure of her decision," Caine explained. "Four years later she returned, and we were married. After that, we were together every day until she died."

The priest's remark caused a sudden realization to flicker through Peter's memory, and his eyes widened in understanding. "That's why you gave me the letter," he said. "Today is the anniversary of her death."

"Yes."

"Do you still miss her?"

"At times."

Peter took a moment to absorb his father's confession before posing a question. "What do you think she would say to me if she were alive today?"

"An unusual question," Caine replied, and considered it briefly before responding. "She would probably tell you how much she loves you, and that you ask too many questions."

Peter smiled at Caine's remark. "I love you, Pop."

"I love you, too, but do not call me Pop," Caine admonished lightly, and gave his son a gentle slap to the jaw.

**END**


End file.
